Apocalyptic Love Songs Epilogue

Castiel nodded and lowered his head. “Very well, Dean.”

Dean nodded too and looked out at the junkyard, feeling like he’d closed a door.


Bobby had bought guest beds when it appeared Sam and Dean were around for the long haul, so that night Dean told Castiel to take his and put himself on the couch. He lay awake for an hour or more, his arm behind his head, when he heard a creak on the stair.

He looked up and then sat up when he saw it was Castiel. “Hey,” he said quietly and Castiel smiled at him and picked his way through the stacks of books to sit at his side.

“Sam snores,” Castiel said and pulled up his legs to wrap his arms around them.

“I know. Like a bulldozer.”

“Bulldozers do not snore.” He leaned back his head and blinked slowly like a contented cat. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me too.” He shifted so he could lean against Castiel’s side. Castiel wrapped and arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “One more proof it’s you. No one else is as literal.”

“I will study metaphors,” Castiel murmured. “I want to be alone with you, Dean.”

Dean chuckled and tilted back his head to kiss Castiel’s jaw. “I want to be alone with you too, but I have no idea how we’re going to manage it.”

“Like this,” Castiel said and pulled Dean’s head back again to kiss his mouth. Dean parted his lips and flicked out his tongue, moaning quietly — and then not so quietly when Castiel slid a hand down his chest. “But you are noisy,” Castiel murmured, amused.

“I know,” Dean said and knocked his head back against Castiel’s shoulder in frustration. Bobby’s house really didn’t lend itself to privacy.

Castiel was quiet a moment. “Does Bobby still have the panic room?”

“He does.” Dean pushed himself up off the couch. “You’re a genius.” He held out his hand to Castiel, who smiled as he took it and was still smiling as they walked downstairs to the basement.

Castiel kissed him as soon as the basement door was shut, carefully, holding his shoulders so they wouldn’t tumble down the stairs. Dean pulled him along step by step, kissing him back and pulling on his oversized t-shirt.

He pulled Dean along by his hands into the panic room and to the narrow, single bed. Dean lay down with him and kissed him, tasting his mouth. Castiel didn’t smell like cookies anymore — he smelled like something earthier, like potting soil and raw wood. Dean buried his face in Castiel’s neck and rocked against him, and Castiel stroked his back and kissed his hair. “Do you approve, Dean?” he whispered. “Do I please you?”

“Oh, I approve,” Dean whispered and kissed him harder. His mouth was as sweet as ever, and Dean thought he could keep kissing him like this for days. “I’ll always approve of you.” He slid his mouth down Castiel’s neck.

“I approve of you more when you’re naked,” Castiel said and tugged Dean’s shirt over his head. Dean laughed and let Castiel undress him, shirt and boots and jeans, and then rolled Castiel under him and kissed him. Castiel’s hands stroked down his body and his legs wrapped loosely around Dean’s waist.

Dean explored him slowly, acquainting himself with Castiel’s new body. He was thin and so pale, not even a callus on his fingers, not a patch of rough skin on either elegant foot. Not a bruise, not a scratch, just warm skin, fine hair, and those wide eyes watching him with tenderness and anticipation. Dean said, “It’s like you’re new, you’re brand-new,” and Castiel laughed.

“I am new, Dean.” He stretched out his arms and arched his body. “I feel . . . I feel. I feel my heart, I feel my breath. I think I feel my blood.”

Dean stroked his thumb over Castiel’s collar bone. “Do you feel infinite?” he said softly. Castiel smiled and grasped him by the shoulders, pulled him down and kissed him fiercely.

“I feel like I contain worlds.”


They looked at each other, lying on their sides and not touching. Castiel’s face rested on his hand and he blinked slowly, his face contented. Dean thought he should be touching Castiel, holding him, but they were so close on the narrow bed it would only take a shift from one part of his hip to the other to be pressed together again.

“Am I different?” Castiel said softly.

“A little,” Dean said. “You’re newer.” Castiel chuckled, still with that contented look, and Dean said, “You feel breakable.”

“I suppose I am.” He paused. “Dean. Don’t leave me behind. Please. I don’t know how I could bear it.”

Deans wallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do what you want me to do,” he said, and Castiel’s brows furrowed a little. “I don’t know a thing about showing someone how to live. It’s like raising a kid and I’ve never done that.”

“Sam,” Castiel pointed out.

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